Broken Promise Broken Angel
by ludwigsgirl97
Summary: When childhood friends Ludwig and Feliciano are separated by the former having a horrific car crash and being in a coma, it all goes downhill. But every hill has a base, right? WARNING: contains child molestation. AU. May contatain smut.
1. Chapter 1

"Master Ludwig!" The little servant shouted through the house. Because her mother had worked for Ludwig's parents, He had decided that he should do the same thing for their young son. Ludwig always wore a black suit, wanting to be professional like his father, but Feliciano had only his mother after the plague of all things to kill someone in the modern age had taken his father. So he put on a tiny version of her dress, and she didn't seem to mind. As such, Ludwig thought him a girl, and one that was quite pretty.

" I told you that you don't have to call me master. We're friends, so you can just use my name." He assured her for the hundredth time, but still she refused to break the character she had created for herself.

"I painted you a picture." She said, ignoring him and holding up the small canvas. He was surprised to see a picture of them, holding hands upon a hill. The part that shocked him was that, in spite of the fact that he almost never smiled, she had captured the expression perfectly in the artwork, in spite of the fact that they were only ten.

"It's so pretty. You'll be a great artist one day. When I take over father's company, I'll buy all your paintings, so that no one else can take the beauty from me." He promised, and the cross-dressing servant smiled from ear to ear.

"That makes me happy. We can live together, and I'll paint you anything you want. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"Yeah. Hey, Felicia, do you think that we could get married one day?" The blonde said, his blue eyes full of hopeful question.

"Of course. We already spend all our time together, and the butterflies in my belly are like love, right?"

"I think so. Besides, there's no one I'd rather be with than you. So it makes sense that we should get married." Even in the childish promise, one could clearly see their perspectives. Feliciano saw the whimsical romance of it, while Ludwig was all about logic; what made sense was what was inevitably right.

"When we get older then."

"Hold out your pinky, so we can swear on it." He said, holding out his little finger to the person he had come to love in the way that only children can. Love without limits; without complications; without pain.

"Of course." Feliciano reciprocated the gesture, and they both smiled as they looked into each other's eyes.

"In Italy, where my mama is from, they make promises with a kiss." The servant said. Ludwig nodded, and placed his shaking lips lightly against hers. After but a brief, chaste brush, Ludwig's father called for him. They had to go to one meeting or another, as was the story of the corporate boys life.

"Goodbye. Have a nice day, master Ludwig." Feliciano said, bowing slightly.

"Call me Ludwig." He called back as he rushed down to meet his family.

…

Ludwig was ecstatic. He was allowed to ride in the front seat of the car that his father was driving. A well built SUV from their home country of Germany. He had always been confined to the backseat, even having to stay in one of those demeaning booster seats for a year after his little Felicia. And that thought made him even happier. She had promised to marry him when they got older. She was really his, and she was far more valuable than this car, or even the mansion he lived in.

But this was perhaps the worst possible day to let the young boy into the front seat, for the back is much more secure. And there just happened to be a man in a pickup truck who wasn't watching where he was going. And he just happened to slam into the driver side of the vehicle, killing Ludwig's father instantly and slamming Ludwig's still developing head into the glass of his side, knocking him out cold and spraying blood everywhere. The boy held on to the image of Felicia smiling at him with her pinky extended toward him, as the rest seemed to fade away. Fade into the dark pit of circumstance, where even the innocent were torn apart by the hungry lions that were fate.

When Feliciano heard the news, he rushed to the hospital as fast as his mother would drive him. Only to be told that in all likely hood his friend would never wake up, and that if he did he would do so as an orphan. It would be Ludwig's uncle, Gilbert who would take over the company unless a miracle happened and Ludwig awoke competent and able to do so.

Soon after, he was informed that master Gilbert would be firing his mother, but because he did have a heart, he'd be sending them to work for his friend Francis, a wine tycoon from France. But Feliciano cared little about money, or where he was working. He cared only about the fact that this new place of employment was too far away for him to sneak away and see Ludwig, and his mother was convinced that for him to see him would be bad for the boy. That it would bring up bad memories and never let her son get over the effectual death of his best and only friend.

"Well, aren't you the cute little one." The Frenchman said, patting Feliciano on the head, now wearing the male clothing that was appropriate. Without Ludwig, there was no character to maintain, and so there was no reason to wear the dress that was quite uncomfortable in his opinion.

"Thank you sir. My name is Feliciano." He said, bowing accordingly. He acted with the same formality as he had at Ludwig's house, but his heart wasn't in it. In fact, the boy was thoroughly convinced that his heart wasn't inside himself, either, but rather still in the hospital beating next to the boy who had stolen it and gotten away without a hitch.

"And wonderful manners as well. And you must be his mother…" They went along to talk business, and Feliciano simply sat in the large foyer looking out of one of the huge windows, as if he could see his love if he looked hard enough. The house was nice, even bigger than his old one. There were plenty of pretty girls running around, even offering to get _him_ things, as if he wasn't just another servant. But in spite of this, or the wonderful garden in the back that normally would have screamed at him to paint it, or even the fact that this master would allow him to go to school, rather than being home schooled, he was still gloomy. The cheerful, always smiling Felicia was sleeping with her friend. Submissive, but unemotional Feliciano was awake.

….

"Feliciano, would you come here for a moment?" Francis said as the boy went to deliver him his evening tea.

"Yes sir?" He asked, placing the silver tray down and looking into the blue eyes of his new master. Not the wonderful sky blue of Ludwig, but more of a deep sea tone. Blonde hair fell over them, but not like the short and well kept style of Ludwig's angel colored locks. It seemed to be purposefully disheveled, but that seemed strange to the Italian boy.

"I understand that you were good friends with Ludwig, huh?"

"Yeah. We even said that we would get married when we were older." The boy said, but then wondered if he had done something wrong when the small grin became a scary smile coming from the Frenchman.

"Well, I hope that you can one day become good friends with me as well." The blonde said.

"Um…I think I hear Mama calling me…" He said, feeling weird as large cold hands were placed on his chest.

"Your mother is out fro groceries. She isn't anywhere near here." He said, unbuttoning the jacket to the boy's suit.

"W-what are you doing, master Francis?" Feliciano exclaimed, every red flag in his mind raised.

"I find that there is a sure fire way to get over someone you loved before, and I'm showing you that way." He said, as if he was simply being kind.

" I don't Wanna get over Ludwig. And I don't like this kind of touching, so I would very much like for you to stop." He said, but didn't move, more than knowing he wasn't the one in charge here. He was shy and submissive, much like Matthew, the son that Francis had taken away from him after a hushed child molestation case.

"But you aren't who gets to decide, and I very much _do_ like this touching." This was followed by his creepy laugh, and tears started to form in Feliciano's eyes and the rest of his clothing was removed. His mother had been sent all over town, and wouldn't be back for at least an hour. That left Francis at least an hour to do whatever he wanted with his new toy.

….

After forty five minutes, the small boy had been told to replace his clothing and report back for another round the next day. He had also been told that if he told anyone, not only would nothing happen to him, but that his mother would be the one to take the fall. People would say she was a bad mother, and he'd fire her. They'd be homeless, and his mother would starve to death. Not wanting anything to happen to the only thing he had left, he did as instructed and limped back to the room he had so graciously been given all to himself. He now found out that it was likely just so that he had a place to clean the evidence of his master's sin from his body, and cry. Tears that tried in vain to wash the taint that he felt had entered his body away. But it was useless. He would never become clean. Never regain the childish innocence that had been robbed from him at the same time as the one he loved. The only one he could have seen gently caressing that innocence away from him and cherishing it like it was the largest diamond in the world, and then some.

But love was of little consequence. Nor was virtue, or even honesty. All that mattered was doing as he was told, and hoping and praying that one day his sleeping Prince would wake up and rescue him from the dragon that was his new life, breathing scorching flames into his very soul and leaving him with little left to save. This was the new life of Feliciano Vargas. This was what happened behind the closed doors of the Bonnefoy house, when his mother was away. A life of pain, and a life of guilt. For, even though it was not he who was doing this horrid thing, it was he who did nothing to stop it. It was he who allowed the desecration of the body and should he had since promised to someone who deserved it so much more. But now, Feliciano felt he deserved nothing. Over time, he began to hope that Ludwig would never wake up, so that way he didn't have to decide whether or not he wanted something so foul as what his sweet little Felicia had become, without heart soul, and slowly loosing his mind. He hoped that Ludwig would die, and go to heaven where he would never have to deal with anything like this again. And then he started hoping that he himself would die, and be taken from this earthly hell, for not even Satan could think of something worse for him. But these were all prayers from a distraught child, and God either didn't listen, or knew better than to answer, for nothing happened for nine long years.

A/N- So this is fairly angsty, as most of my stories are. In case you haven't noticed, Feliciano is being raped by France, and it's only gonna get more explicit. Anyway, hope you enjoyed and will review.


	2. Chapter 2

Feliciano was now eighteen years old, and still living under the roof of the seemingly generous Frenchman. Soon after they came into his service, Feliciano's mother became ill, and the only way for her to be able to receive the care she needed from the rich man was to allow the abuse he had suffered to continue indefinably. Of course, that wasn't made public, and instead mister Bonnefoy said that the Italian was simply his private painter, making him beautiful paintings that were scattered all about his house, as well as the other rich inhabitants of the area. He graduated high school, and was now what one would have called a starving artist if it weren't for the upstanding man who gave he and his mother a home. But Feliciano planned to leave the very moment he could, whether because his mother died, or because he found another place to go.

He was in the park, painting a portrait of the slowly sloping hills, and a young lady who had walked her dog here every day. She was pretty, and blonde hair flowed from her lean shoulders. He wondered what had happened to Ludwig. He had never heard any news, as one would expect from the heir of a huge fortune. So he had assumed there wasn't any change, and yet when he had left the house, and went t other hospital, they said that the name didn't appear in their computer. He wasn't there, by death, or by transfer, or even just getting better, Feliciano couldn't find out, but he wasn't there or in any hospital around. So he had started to give up, to think that somewhere his Ludwig was simply laying alone in some private hospital, where no one cared about him, or gave a damn if he got better or not.

As he added a few strokes of paint, he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He turned to see what had to be God's cruel joke on him. A young man, about his age, with slicked back blonde hair, startling blue eyes, and the same features he had imagined night after night, what Ludwig would look like if he had been an adult.

"Excuse me sir, I know this sound rude, but did we ever know each other? You look utterly familiar." He asked, his voice deep, and he heard a slight accent, but couldn't place it, what with all the accents he had been around. He supposed it could have just seemed rougher because he was used to the fluid sound of French.

"I don't know. I don't meet very many people, but I'm here every day, so that might be why you recognize me." He responded, hating whatever God thought this was funny. It wasn't, it was simply ripping open a wound that had scarred and reopened entirely too much already.

"I see. Do you have a little sister, again I know I'm prying, but I can't shake those features out of the image of a little girl." He squinted at the brunette, as if that would make everything clearer. But it only blurred everything more. He couldn't believe it. This man was bringing up everything that he had ever tried to cover up. When he had finally decided that he did have to get over Ludwig, along came this guy who was dragging him back down the hill.

"No. I'm an only child, and my mother is very sick. I should be getting home to her now, actually." He said, turning to gather the various painting tools that had been on his black steel portable easel. "It was nice meeting you, though. I hope you find who you're looking for." He walked away, not wanting these strangers to see his tears. They'd inevitably ask him what was wrong, or worse, laugh at the man who couldn't control his emotions. At the man who acted like a girl all the time, and couldn't help but let himself be dominated by any and all situations. He sighed as he rushed to the place that he had referred to as home. He didn't think of it as a home in the traditional sense, of the place where one felt safe, but he didn't feel safe anywhere so the place where he lived and where his mother was would have to do, less he be the only homeless man living in a mansion.

But why did he have a feeling of regret? He knew that Ludwig was brain-dead, or dead altogether, so why did he feel so haunted, as if it was really his long lost love come back from the grave merely to find him in a park. For his hero to arrive far to late, to save a princess that was closer to the people in the graveyard than the fair maiden he remembered, or rather, forgot. It was ridicules. There was no way that Ludwig would forget him, and even less chance that the tabloids would have stayed out of such an influential man's miraculous revival. He walked in the door, and went straight to his room, placing his things in their proper place. He laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling as tears poured from his tan cheeks. The rest of his body no longer reacted to sadness. It was simply something that happened, and yet the tears still fell, as if his body had simply decided to do this any time he was alone.

"Why? Why did I have to be the one that this happened to? I was so happy. I had Ludwig, and he and mother loved me, and then this had to happen. She's dying, and he's dead. Is this some kind of curse or something?" He asked whoever, if anyone was listening. His parents had instilled strong catholic values in him, and yet he was sure that God would never let things like this happen to someone so innocent. Every night as he limped into his room, abused, though not really broken, you couldn't break something that had never been put back together in the first place, left him doubting his mother's god more and more. If he was real, then Feliciano was defiantly out of his good graces, perhaps having done something in a past life to make him be hated by whatever divinity existed. Maybe it was that he had missed church the Sunday before Ludwig had been hurt, and hadn't been back since. Then again, his French captor, as this was the best word the small man could think of for the man whose home he resided in, had never once been to church, and so by the same coin, he shouldn't have all that he does.

As expected, he received no answer, and he punched the bed, simply making an unsatisfying thump noise, as the fine material absorbed the blow of his fist. Not that he was all that strong to start with. He never had to worry about anyone attacking him, having always grown up in the lap of luxury, and no one in these sorts of places attacked the people who didn't look like they had money on them, namely himself and the other errand boys. Not to mention he had a very high metabolism, so he didn't have to work out to stay in shape, something that caused his form to be almost feminine in that he had little meat on his slender frame, and he had a high pitched voice. The very things that had Ludwig convinced he was a girl, something he hadn't quite realized until after he was gone. And then he got a text message on the cell phone that only one person had the number to. The man who had given it to him, though he didn't really want it. Because every time that phone buzzed, he would be paying back every penny it cost with interest. He got up, wiped his face, and walked out of his room, and down the hall to the room of the houses master.

It was time for another night of torture, before he composed himself, bringing his happy mask up with the sun, once again becoming the spirited young man everyone expected him to be.

….

If Feliciano had bothered asking the name of his mysterious questioner in the park, he would have discovered it was Ludwig Bellschmidt. A man who had lost his memory in a horrific car accident, and was now being cared for by his uncle, who had inherited the corporation at the behest of his father. But he hadn't asked a name, and so Ludwig was left clueless. He was completely unaware that this boy was one he had promised to marry one day, and that it was the one in the small painting he had found in the attic with "To my Ludwig" scratched into the side. He was completely oblivious to the fact that his uncle was hated by his father, and that if he had the choice, the company would have fallen into the hands of anyone else. That he should have been the CEO and sole owner, but his uncle was simply swindling him out of billions of dollars.

"It's time for dinner, master Ludwig." His butler said, and old man named Joseph with thinning hair and frown lines on his face.

"Alright. I'll be down in a minute." He said, the smile that had always graced his face in childhood was long gone, and had rarely made an appearance since he awoke in a hospital with only the sound of cars crashing into each other and screams in his head. The rest had been filled in by his villainous uncle, who , unknown to anyone walking this earth, was essentially disowned from the family for trying to kill Ludwig's grandfather to inherit the fortune sooner than he should, resulting in him not getting a dime when the old man actually did die a year later.

"Yes master." The man stepped out to allow him to change into dining attire, and he slowly slid his normal outfit off. A white button up shirt with a black tee underneath, and black slacks. He put on a suit, and made sure his hair was still in it's proper place.

As he walked down the stairs, he was surprised to find his uncle talking with a young woman. She was tall, and she was graceful in spite of her high heels. Long blonde hair nearly reached her slim waist, and accentuated her wide hips and the v-neck dress she wore, in a fiery red of course, made her ample bosom quite obvious, as she displayed it like it was the star exhibit at a museum. Exactly the kind of person that Ludwig hated the most. A gold digging whore.

"And who would this young woman be, Uncle?" He asked, trying not to let his left eye twitch, a reaction that always happened when he was annoyed.

"This is miss Martina Smith, a young lady who would like to get to know you better." He said, and Ludwig nearly sighed. His uncle had been trying to set him up with different girls for months, nearly as soon as he had been discharged from the hospital, but they were all like this one. They didn't give a damn about him, jut his last name and the money that came with it.

"It's nice to meet you miss. I'm Ludwig, but you likely knew that already." He said in a monotone, bowing slightly and extending his hand. She took it daintily, and he placed a small whisper of a kiss upon it. Exactly as his uncle had told him to do.

"Aren't you sweet?" She said, and her voice was entirely too high pitched for Ludwig to be able to stand it for more than a week. This would end as they all do, with him taking her out to dinner and being kind, but never trying for anything. She would think he was simply a gentleman at first, but soon enough, she would try something. Just holding his hand, or putting a hand on his shoulder, and he would shrug her off. She would go to his uncle saying that he must be gay to resist her, even for a night, and he would simply say that he didn't want to contract any diseases by accident in a night spent with her, and that he couldn't see it going anywhere so she could stop trying and move onto the next guy. She would get pissed off, and he would tell his uncle to find a respectable young lady, regardless of status and then he could maybe be romantically involved, but until then, he would keep rejecting them.

"Indeed. Is this another suitor for me, then?" He asked, not even in the mood to be cordial today. His mind was still wrapped around the man in the park, the one that had his mind scrambling to figure out where he had seen him before.

"Men don't have suitors, my boy. But she is interested in getting to know you better." His uncle replied.

"Well, I'm quite the private person, so I don't think getting to know me would be worth your time, young miss. Though I hear that the man across the street pays well for your type. He likes the blonde curvy ones." He said, blunt as he could.

"Excuse me?" She said, flabbergasted that he would simply come out and say something like that.

"I'm not interested in a girl who my uncle calls because he thinks I'm lonely. And I'm not interested in one who knocks on whichever door looks expensive. Please leave unless you have other business to attend in this house." He wished that he could say his house, but as far as he knew it wasn't. Again, he had no idea that everything his uncle held over his head actually belonged to him.

"You're son must like the boys, so try finding him one of those, you stupid bastards. No man can resist a girl with an ass like mine." She said, her demeanor changing now that she knew she had no chance.

"And thus I'm proven right. Uncle, please find me a girl who isn't interested in the money I'll be getting when you die, next time. Perhaps one of those middle class, working girls." He said, before walking to the dining room. He knew that no one would figure out about his cruelty. He was aware that his uncle paid good money for anything involving him to stay out of the tabloids, and so he could pretty much do whatever he damn well pleased.

"You'll die alone like that, Ludwig." His uncle said.

"But it seems that when you're lonely you live longer, so maybe it's for the best. Besides, that's the kind of woman that you feel lonely even when she's in your bed." He said, frowning as he struggled to remember why he didn't feel the eternal loneliness when he was with that man in the park.


	3. Chapter 3

Feliciano limped back into his bedroom, and crawled into the shower, turning the water on as hot as he could stand it, and then even farther, until the water was causing him nearly as much pain as the ordeal before. This was part of his nightly routine, where he prayed that the water would wash away the sins of his sloth, and the transferred sin of Francis' lust, like a nightly baptism. He was truly regretful of the actions, but he had yet to find the strength to change his path, and the God his mother told him of was forgiving, though he might be testing even perfect, divine patience.

When he felt as clean as he was going to get, he put on some pajamas and went to check on his mother. When he opened the door, and she didn't look over and smile at him like she did every other night. He thought that perhaps she had fallen asleep, and so he went over to tuck her in, as she had done for him years ago. But when he lifted her hand to place it under the soft blankets, he found something else entirely. Her hand was cold, and her fingers were stiff. She was even slightly blue, and her eyes were desolate, and without light.

"Mama! Wake up." He pleaded, even though he was sure that she wouldn't ever wake up again, at least not in this world.

"What's wrong, Feli?" One of the maids asked, who had come in to clean up the room.

"Mama! She's dead, Marcella. She's dead!" he shouted, tears running from his eyes as he sobbed, his body unable to move from his place by the bed, though the sight of the corpse of his mother was ripping him apart.

"Oh dear God. Someone call 911." The maid said, though she did it herself. She was nearly puking, while Feliciano could simply feel the death of his mother destroying what little he had left, cutting open the only small patch of unmarked skin left on the surface of his soul.

"Mama…Why would you leave me?" he sobbed, fists clenched in the blankets.

"What's all the ruckus?" the master of the house walked in, and found the scene. His face went pale, not because of the sight of death, he didn't care for the woman, and he had no problem dealing with death. He had worked as an assistant to a morgue examiner once. He was worried because now nothing kept his little Feli from walking out, and telling everyone else about what he had done. It had taken millions to get him out of it with his own son, and he knew he'd fry with someone else's. He thought quickly, and wondered if he could convince the boy not to tell anyone, in exchange for a good funeral, and a sum of money.

"Mama. She died sometime today. Who knows how long, and she died alone, when I lived in the same house as she did. I'm an awful son." He cried, in spite of the fact that he had been taking night after night of torture so that she could live this long.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to arrange her funeral, then. Come on, Feli, you don't need to see this." Feliciano was confused, either the blonde had something devious up his sleeve, or he had grown real affection for the boy. But he couldn't tell which.

"I-I suppose." The Italian allowed himself to be lifted, and led into the next room.

"So, will you be leaving, then?" Francis asked, closing the door.

"I didn't think you'd let me." Hope formed in his eyes.

"Of course, if you don't stay, we can forget any of this ever happened, and due to both of your loyal service, I'll pay the expenses of your mother's funeral, and everything else. As well as a final paycheck to get you started somewhere else."

"And I suppose part of the agreement is that I not tell anyone, then?" The Frenchman cursed, so the boy wasn't as dumb as he acted.

"Well, that much is obvious. Besides, what could you gain. You're a grown man, and so everyone else would just see you as a little slut. It wouldn't work out well for anyone." He hoped that fear would keep the boy's tongue as it had before.

"I don't give a damn. Just make sure that you never hurt another boy like you did me, because I'm sure that they wouldn't let you go with two of us. Just bury my mama, and I never want to see you again." He said, tears still falling from his amber eyes. And yet, the pain he was feeling was good in a way. It was much better than the numbness he had been living with for so long. And now he could start anew, perhaps making art for churches. That could assist in the repentance of his sins, or at least that was the idea.

"Very well. You have a deal, young man." The older man couldn't believe his luck, he had managed to get out of being locked up for life, and only with this. If it didn't hold the chance of angering the boy and breaking the deal, he would have laughed. Besides, Feliciano was getting a little too old for him anyway, he preferred them much younger.

"Then I'll pack my things and go." He said, intending to at the very least take his art materials, as he needed those to feed himself. Art was his only skill, aside from servant work, but he never wanted to do that again. The only time he had ever had fun was when he was with Ludwig. And that was more friend than servant.

He changed into appropriate clothing, put three changes of clothes, and his paints in a suitcase, before grabbing his easel and heading out with the money that he had been given over the years, never spent because he never wanted anything. It was a few thousand dollars, enough to live off if for at least a while. He walked out into the cool September night, pulling his coat tighter as he walked out, making sure that nothing fell out of his bag, and that his easel was undamaged. The only place he could think to go was the park, so he did. He was acting like a hobo, when he was wearing a suit worth more than some people paid in rent a month, and more than that in a single bag. He laid on the small bench, hoping that there wouldn't be any thugs walking by at this particular hour, because he was fairly certain that he would be able to do nothing about it but give them his money.

It was so weird to be out of his warm bed, and yet, his insides were free of the icy grip of pain that had been clutching at him with a chilly iron grasp. He felt better than he had in years, and yet it was only because his mother was dead, and he was homeless. He would have cried some more at the realization, but he had no tears left. He was fresh out, and he wondered if he would ever get any more, or if he had used his allotted amount for life, and he would have to go through life without them from now on. He shook his head, trying to clear his head of thoughts so that he could sleep. Somehow the wooden bench was comfortable.

….

"I can't believe you turned down another girl. She wasn't even a blonde!" Ludwig's uncle protested, and the ever patient young man clenched his fist, though in his pocket where the man whom the aggression was directed toward couldn't see it.

"I don't want a girl like that, Uncle. I've told you this. I don't want just a woman to warm my bed, I want a best friend, who warms my heart."

"And how are you supposed to make friends, when you never go out anywhere? You make no sense, Ludwig."

"Then I'll start going out, but I won't wear my normal attire. Instead, I'll wear clothing that if anything make me look lower class, so I know she won't be after my money." He decided.

"And what will you do if she asks about your background?"

"I have amnesia, I'll tell the truth. And if she asks about family, I'll simply tell her that they died in a car crash. No need to lie." He answered, bowing slightly before excusing himself for bed.

….

Ludwig prepared himself, getting dressed in department store clothing, and making sure that his hair wasn't in it's normal slicked back style. He hated the feel of the locks on his brow, but it couldn't be helped. The average person didn't wear their hair as he did. Hell, the upper class didn't even wear their hair like that anymore, but he had ceased caring.

He bid his uncle farewell, and walked out, not able to drive lest he be found out. Normal people didn't drive cars like the ones in his garage. He couldn't help but notice that these tennis shoes were much more comfortable than his normal attire, as well as the rest of the outfit. He decided that a good place to start would be a café, and so he strolled down the streets until he found one. It appeared to be a middle class sort of place, and he entered. He was shocked at what he found there. The same young man from the park, sipping a cup of coffee with a suitcase and an easel beside him.

"Oh, hello again. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were following me." The Italian greeted him as if they were old friends.

"And I could say the same. By the way, I didn't get your name on the last encounter." He said, extending a hand, and then realizing that he was likely supposed to give his name in return. But he couldn't give his real name, could he, that wouldn't make much sense. And besides, the whole point was for people not to know who he was, right?

"Oh! I'm Feliciano Vargas. And you are…?" He happily took the hand, shaking it with a good deal of enthusiasm.

"Harald Baldewin. Nice to meet you." He made up. (A/N- Harald is "army ruler" in german, And Baldwin means "brave friend" which I though described Germany pretty well, though the army part no so much this "Ludwig" so yeah. That's the names for you.) Hoping that the boy wouldn't see through the deceit. He had never had much reason to lie that he could remember, and so he had no idea if he would be good at it. And if not, it wasn't a big loss. He was looking for a _woman_ right?

"Nice to meet you too. Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me, or are you here for someone in particular. Don't tell me one of these lovely ladies has been waiting on you all this time?" He smiled, and the blonde shook his head, taking off his cap.

"No, I'm actually fairly new in town, and was looking to meet some people. Get to know the neighborhood. Mind if I ask why you have a suitcase?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. See, I used to work as a sort of servant in someone's house, but I'm between jobs right now. I'm hoping that I can get by off my paintings, so I just carry my things around until I can find a place to stay." He explained. He was either a man who didn't know what "too personal" was, or a brilliant liar, though Ludwig couldn't think of any devious reasons for one to travel with a suitcase and an easel. It made about as much sense as anything else about the man, who was dressed in fineries, but was drinking the cheapest thing on the menu with uncombed hair.

"I see. That sound troublesome. So can you not stay at a hotel, or rent an apartment?"

"I'm a bit strapped for cash." He replied, drinking down what both of them considered sludge, not real coffee, but he needed the caffeine to wake up in the morning, and painting tired ended badly. Especially when you were already nearly done with a piece.

"I see."

"You know, I think it would be ironic if you had bad vision. You keep saying "I see! I see!" but then you couldn't _actually _see." He giggled.

"It's not very nice to make fun of those who's vision isn't as good as yours. What if I were to make fun of you for not having a place to stay, something you couldn't help?"

"I suppose. But I didn't mean it in a cruel way. And either way, sometimes I think that the blind can see better than those of us who have vision, you know?"

"How so?" This was new. Ludwig was a concrete man, in spite of his romantic snippet the previous night, and seeing without eyes was really messing with his head.

"Well, take this painting for instance. I can see it's beauty, or lack thereof, based on the pigments put onto the canvas, but a blind man would only be able to judge it based on who was giving it to them, and how much time and work that person had put into it. And so they can see something less tangible, but even more real that the paint."

"That's an interesting point. But what if the man doesn't know you, and is just buying a painting to make his home look better?"

"Then, because he can't see it himself, he'd still have to trust someone else to tell him what it looked like, and in his heart he would still be thinking only of the joy of others, in spite of the fact that they are already so much more fortunate than him."

"And if he is merely flaunting his money, and doesn't care what the picture is, so long as it's expensive."

"I don't believe that that could be someone's only motive. I think people are better than that." He said, and he of all people to be saying it.

"That seems naïve to me, but I suppose Everyone is allowed to have their own ideas."

"You two are going to have to order more than one cup of coffee between the two of you, or this date is gonna be cut short."

"W-We aren't on a date!" Ludwig protested, his pale face turning red.

"Keep telling yourself that." The waitress said, rolling her eyes. He couldn't help but notice that the smaller man had no problem with this, instead, he sat their giggling like a little girl. And yet, it was probably the cutest thing that Ludwig could remember. Much more attractive than the girls who donned street walker clothing to try and get in his pockets. He smiled, and then ordered a cup of coffee and a piece of cake.


	4. Chapter 4

"So then, are we friends now?" Feliciano asked, still attached to the fact that this man looked so much like Ludwig.

"I suppose. We could hang out at some point in the near future.

"Wanna meet up here tomorrow morning?" He asked, and Ludwig/Harald shrugged.

"Why not. I don't suppose it could hurt much." Yes, the blonde was aware that he was supposed to be meeting _women_, but it didn't really matter that much. Ludwig didn't care for marriage, thinking that it should be an option, not an obligation. Something you did when you found the one you love, not something you search for someone for. But his uncle was insatiable.

"Yay! Anyway, see you tomorrow. I've got stuff to do, and you probably have stuff too, so bye!" The young man was fairly cheerful as he picked up his things, and left the café. Ludwig cursed as he realized that his heart was still beating as if he had just finished a marathon. He had no idea why, but it was starting to bother him. Every time he looked at the boy, he would get faint snippets of his face, but couldn't pick out the background. It was frustrating him to no end.

"Ja, goodbye." If Feliciano had been listening, he would have heard the same inflection of the german affirmative that had been so familiar to him in childhood, but he wasn't as usual, and so it escaped his ears.

He went into the park, ready to finally finish his painting, and find someone to buy it. As the final strokes of his brush went over the canvas, a man walked behind him. He was wearing the same formal wear as the painter, though the young Italian had taken off his jacket and was in his undershirt and slacks so as not to get the other article of clothing dirty. He had snowy hair, and an elderly face, well taken care of, but clearly in his fifty's at least.

"That's a nice painting. My nephew has a number of paintings in the same style. Say, would you be willing to sell it to me, or is someone already waiting on it?" The man asked, raising a white eyebrow.

"No, I was actually wondering if I could find someone to buy it from me. How much would you be willing to pay?"

"Well, it's exquisite work, so would fifteen thousand dollars be alright with you?" Feliciano wanted to pass out. His first painting, and he was selling it for such a large amount. He readily agreed, and was surprised when the man pulled out a checkbook, and wrote him one for the dollar amount mentioned. They traded, and Feliciano was ecstatic. He immediately picked up his things and headed to the bank, so as to make an account. He couldn't very well carry this amount around, after all. And now he could reasonably rent himself a real apartment.

…

Ludwig walked home, and as he walked into the door, he was surprised to find the painting that had been with Feliciano this morning hanging on the wall of the voyeur.

"Where did you get that?" He hoped that the small man was all right. Worst case scenarios ran through his head, no matter how little sense they made. The boy had been mugged, and the painting was unwanted, or that his uncle had had it sold to him by someone who had killed Feliciano to get it.

"A young man was finishing it as I walked through the park. You have a number like it, so I thought it would bring you out of the funk you've been in. Do you like it?" He asked, and Ludwig nodded. A smile was brought to his face, as he realized that his new friend had found a buyer the first day he had a finished painting.

"Yeah. In fact, I've seen the kid painting it when I walk through the park. He's very skilled."

"That he is. I'd like more of his work if I can find him again. But where does a mysteriously talented boy dressed only in suit pants and an undershirt stay. He really is quite the strange one."

"Well, perhaps I'll look for him when I go out tomorrow."

"I don't know if he'll be in the sorts of places that common people go anymore. I gave him fifteen thousand dollars. I would hope that he would use it to live the high life."

"Fair enough. But an artist has to be good at managing money, lest they wind up in an endless roller coaster. After all, they never know if someone will actually buy their next work."

"Well, if you see him, just say that you heard of someone who collects art of the same sort as his. Will you do that?" Ludwig nodded, thinking that his uncle was being quite strange. Usually he would have been scolded for the "yeah" that had slipped from his tongue, and told to change into some suitable clothing immediately. He was actually a bit concerned for the health of his relative. Maybe he was pressuring him so much because he was dying, and he wanted a real heir to the company, since he didn't have one. His uncle had never married, and he was the only other close member of the family that could actually inherit the company, and for him to have a wife and maybe even a kid on the way would make that claim even more legitimate.

Either way, Ludwig was off the hook, and was able to do as he pleased for the time being. Of course, it was quite likely that his uncle would go back to pestering him, and drowning him in money-grabbing blondes, or gingers since he told the elder that he preferred red-heads. He had meant Auburn, but now the man wouldn't lay off the fiery haired curvy types. He wouldn't listen when Ludwig told him he actually didn't like them like that, preferring the more natural looking ones, without the oddly embellished "assets." Not wanting DD's and the biggest ass he could find somehow made Ludwig not like women at all, and he was starting to wonder if that were the case. He didn't seem to have any luck with the woman, and yet he had met quite the interesting man the day he stopped having to have people filtered through the sometimes perverse eye of his adoptive father.

He went upstairs to shower and change before the call to dinner, hoping that he could find a girl with his new, and only, friend's personality. That would simply be perfect.

….

Feliciano walked from the bank with a checking card, and a hundred dollars in cash in his back pocket. They said that a check of that size would take a while to clear, but that obviously the part that he had brought in cash, while odd, and even slightly suspicious, was placed into his account immediately. He thanked the woman who had assisted him, but didn't notice the fact that she was reaching through her purse to get her phone, having been so flustered by his charm she forgot her own number. She had wanted to see if the young artist would be interested in her, but nearly broke into tears when he simply walked away, suitcase and easel in hand, his auburn hair just ruffled enough to add a bit of ruggedness to his nearly feminine appearance.

Not that he had meant to reject her. He had simply never been a part of this courting thing before. The only women he ever socialized with were his own mother and the maids, and as such he had no idea how much of an attractive man he truly was. He thought that he was barely average, if that, and that the hair atop his head was merely an inconvenience. Not that he didn't understand style, just not how not brushing one's hair in the morning, as he had been taught to do in his high-class upbringing, made them look attractive rather than deranged to say the least. He was actually slightly embarrassed to have not at least remembered to slide his fingers through the red-brown locks, or button up the suit jacket that the woman said made him look so artistic. He was happy simply to have money in a newly created bank account, and enough to live somewhere as well. He went to the first hotel he found, one rated about three stars, and asked for at least a week. Seeing as how this wasn't the sort of place where one kept reservations, they said that he could stay as long as he kept paying in advance. He thanked the woman at the front desk, the daughter of the owner, and once again didn't notice her swooning as he passed. He immediately stepped into the shower, happy to be able to wash himself properly. He had splashed cold water from the fountain on his face that morning, but nothing beyond it, and the grease in his hair was starting to annoy him.

He frowned at the tiny shampoo bottles and realized that he would have to get these things as well. He had grown accustomed to the smell of the shampoo, and other toiletries that were present at his old residence. The women even all used the same perfume, and Francis had insisted that they share his cologne. The reason of course being that no one would smell the stuff on him if they both smelt the same all the time. Another carefully planned out move by the sadistic Frenchman. Not only that, for he wouldn't be wearing the scent of his captivity, but he would also need things like a toothbrush. As it was, his teeth were gritty from not brushing them that morning, and then eating sweets as well. Now that he thought about it, he had forgotten to brush them the night he left as well. All of the things he had taken for granted before were starting to gang up on him, and he sighed.

As he finished washing himself, he scowled, an unfamiliar expression to him, as he realized that there was no deodorant here either. He wondered if the front desk would have it, but decided against asking. He would have to go to the store to purchase the other things, for he also had a particular toothbrush that he liked to use. The one with the bendy things between the bristles, and the tongue cleaner. Either way, he got dressed in one of his spare outfits, which looked nearly identical, and started walking as the sun began to fall from its noon position.

….

That night, Ludwig lie in bed, tossing and turning like a man possessed. Never before had such nightmares plagued him. There was that girl, the one who looked like Feliciano, and she went through all manner of horrors while he stood idly by and allowed them to happen. She would shout his name, even say that he had promised he would protect her and yet nothing would be done. If he tried to move, her screams would only become louder as she underwent even more horrific tortures, putting the hell of Dante's Inferno to shame in their terrors.

And yet he still had no idea who she was. She was in a small green dress, with a white cap over her short hair, one odd curl sticking out from its brethren. Her amber eyes, usually wide open in pain, and full of pleading, were like amber daggers, stabbing into his soul over and over again. He wasn't sure he wasn't in hell himself when his alarm finally went off.

He jerked up, and remembered that he had planned to meet Feliciano at the café again today. He punched the off button, never having once touched the snooze, being quite the punctual man, and got up to wash the gallons of cold sweat from his body. Even in the calm of the aromatherapy steam, he was still barely keeping from shouting out as if he were the one enduring the punishments himself. When he deemed himself clean enough, he got out of the hot torrent of water, and slicked his hair back with the water. It would dry and fall again, but he didn't really care. He was supposed to look normal after all, and slicked hair didn't really fit with the jeans and plaid collared shirt.

He walked from the house, figuring that he would simply pick up breakfast at the café, and so he didn't bother getting it from his home as well. Then again, it was only seven o'clock, and he hadn't set a time for his friend. He doubted the other would wake as early as he. Few did, especially when they had jobs as free as that of an artist. So he went to the café, finding it just starting to open, and ordered himself a cup of the finer coffee, as well as some waffles. He never really had waffles, at least not that he remembered, his uncle preferring finer foods even for the first meal of the day. He decided he very much liked them, even if they were unrefined. He wondered if his father had ever let him try them, and if his uncle would allow him to eat them more later on, as he preferred them over the ornate meals usually prepared in his home. He sat waiting for two hours, keeping the waitress from kicking him out by buying more and more small cakes and other snacks when he wasn't really hungry.

_Perhaps I should try flirting with her. I am supposed to be meeting women after all._ He thought at one point. She was pretty, and her long brown hair was pulled into a high ponytail, with fringed bangs. She was in her early twenties, likely paying off college, or having not gone to college, and was currently wearing her uniform, a mid-length dress with her apron tied a little to tight, to emphasize her small waist and large hips. All in all, quite attractive, but she still held no appeal. Ludwig was going to try it anyway, and see where it went when Feliciano walked in, wearing blue jeans, and a solid sky blue tee shirt. He saw his friend and went to sit down next to him.

"Sorry I'm so late. I thought I pushed the snooze button on my alarm clock, but I accidentally turned it off." He said, smiling apologetically.

"No problem. I was just starting to think that you wouldn't show up."

"Of course I wouldn't just leave you here. You're my only friend, so it isn't like I would be with someone else, and being alone is worse than anything!" the chipper young man said, grinning from ear to ear as he ordered himself a nearly identical order to Ludwig's original.

"I love waffles, don't you?" He said as the breakfast plate came to their table.

"Ja. They're good."

"My mama used to make the best waffles in the world. They were so good, I wouldn't even put syrup on them because it ruined the taste."

"Why wouldn't you eat those waffles instead of these then?"

"Because I never got the recipe before she died a few days ago. And eating, even mama's waffles, by yourself makes the food taste bitter." He said, his smile becoming sad again.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know…" Ludwig felt thoroughly like an ass.

"It's fine. Say, do you have a girlfriend, Harald? You have to, right?"

"No. I don't. Why?"

"Well, I was thinking that we could hang out tomorrow too, but it's Friday, so I figured a nice, handsome guy like you would have a date. So can we?" he seemed exited, like a child who'd been given domain over a candy store. He couldn't say no to those adorable puppy eyes could he? I mean come on, the little guy was just so cute…


	5. Chapter 5

"So, have you found yourself that girl you were looking for yet?" Ludwig's uncle asked, as he walked in that afternoon. He and Feliciano had walked around the city, looking for something else for the boy to paint. Eventually, the Italian decided on one of the mansions as the sun set upon it. This complicated things, as Feli just happened to have chosen his very own home, saying that it was a part of his past, and that he simply had to immortalize it further than the concrete and steel it was built from. He'd walked the man to his hotel, making it seem more like a date than it already did, simply so that his identity wouldn't be blown.

"Not yet, uncle. I'll tell you when." Maybe his uncle never married because he was more like a woman than most of the women Ludwig had ever met. He was needy, he liked spending other people's money, and he nagged like a bitch. The young man wondered if his own mother would have nagged him about getting a wife this badly. Or if he would have married that young girl that always skirted on his memories should he have retained his memories.

He had dinner, and went upstairs, to sleep. As he lay, silk covering his muscular body, staring at his stark white ceiling, he realized that Feliciano had called him handsome. This wasn't a revelation. He was quite aware that he was attractive, it was only that someone told him. And worse, the realization made him blush like the idiotic schoolgirl he felt like when he was around his new friend.

He shook his head. There was no way that he had romantic emotions for the man. He was supposed to be finding a wife after all, and he dreamed of a girl. It was obvious that he wasn't gay, and so having such thoughts made no sense. Denial is a powerful thing, ladies and gentlemen. Very powerful indeed. Powerful enough to make a man obviously falling in love, or rather, remembering that he was in love in the first place, reject the emotions in favour of something more acceptable. But even denial isn't powerful enough to beat love in it's home field of the heart, and it's only a matter of time before the resilient inhibitor is put into checkmate, and Ludwig realizes his true feelings. Of course, what causes that final move to checkmate is often too late…

….

Feliciano walked into his room, a maiden blush covering his tan cheeks. He couldn't believe that Harald had actually walked him home. He looked at the man as the semi-homophobic type, but this could mean that the love he felt could actually work. Yes, he was aware that the main reason that he even approached this man was that he reminded him of Ludwig, but that didn't really matter. They were a lot alike in personality, and so he could just transfer that love. Really, Harald acted like a more proper version of his lost love, and it was the closest he could ever hope to get, short of dying and meeting his childhood love in heaven, provided he was even let in after his years of sin.

Still, The tall german man, his slight accent making ever word he said all the cuter, was everything one would want in a man. He was apparently of at least middle class, in that he dressed in fairly nice clothing. He was tall, handsome, and the perfect gentleman, without being uppity about it.

As one could imagine, Feliciano had no problem with being in love with a man. He had been in love with one for as long as he could remember, and was an unfortunate victim of being no stranger to homosexual intercourse. There was nothing that would be new to him, so there was nothing scary about it. He fell asleep wishing that he could figure out what that enticing cologne Harold wore was, so that he could have that wonderful smell at any time he chose. In fact, he was quite certain that it was familiar to him. Then again, the man whom he had never met before said he remembered him, so there just seemed to be an odd sense of familiarity about the whole situation. It was likely just his brain trying harder to make Harald into his lost Ludwig. If he was a physiologist, he'd probably know the exact term for it, but for now he should just get some sleep.

….

Feliciano went for a morning walk, seeing as how he couldn't sleep. The sun had yet to come up, and the chilly autumn air seemed only to wake him up even more. He wrapped the coat tighter around himself, and walked farther into the depths of the city. Most people who grew up here knew that you never allowed yourself to be in this part of town alone at night. It was half the reason that Ludwig had walked him home. But Feliciano was sheltered, and naïve, never learning the things that people needed to know to function in normal society.

So it was nearly a given that along his journey to places unknown, he would feel the cold blade of a switchblade knife along his delicate throat. Amber eyes went wide, and he was terrified.

"You're wearing some nice clothes there, Mario. Now hand over the wallet, so I can go get some of my own." A raspy voice said behind him. He closed his eyes and whispered a quick prayer before reaching into his pocket and pulling them inside out, showing that he had nothing in them but a hotel room key.

"I was just going for a morning walk. I didn't need money, so I didn't bring any. Please don't hurt me." He begged. He really didn't want to die, now that he was free from his fate worse than death. Life was just starting to go good, and it would be cruel for God to take him up on his request for death now.

"Stupid bastard. Someone'll come and get you, so you're coming with me." He hissed.

"No, I don't have anyone. Please, I don't wanna get hurt. I don't have any family, I'm new to the city and I know that this sound like excuses but it's true. You'll get nothing if you take me but trouble."

"Ahh, but I already have someone paying for you. I just wanted a little on the side too. Apparently you've caught the attention of a Bellschmidt, never a good idea, kid." No. Not that name. It couldn't be. That was Ludwig's last name. Why would a member of his family hunt him down and hire a thug to put a knife to his throat? None of it made sense. Tears fell from his eyes as a cloth sack was placed over it, and there was a strange wetness on it. He soon fell into the arms of his assailant, passed out.

…..

Ludwig got ready and was heading out the door at about nine o'clock. Later than usual, but he'd still be fairly early to meet Feliciano. If nothing else, he now knew where the boy was staying, to go and collect him.

After ten cups of coffee, only half of which he drank and the rest he ordered just to keep the sassy manager out of his hair, he wondered if something was wrong. It was now nearly noon, and there was no reason that someone should be that late, when they were to meet for breakfast. He cursed, and paid his bill before leaving and heading to the hotel where his new friend was staying with his newly acquired check.

"I'm looking for Feliciano Vargas please." He said at the front desk, and the woman looked up at him, and fluttered her lashes.

"And who would you be, cutie?" she asked, popping some bubblegum, black fringed hair falling over her over-done eye makeup, and her red lips retracting the gum sensually. He sighed at the fact that he would have to deal with yet another slut. Isn't that why he stopped acting rich? God he hated whores like this. She was the worst. The kind who didn't even have the benefit of money like the others, just wanting something relatively attractive to open her legs for. This was the sort of woman that made him want to puke.

"I am Harald, his friend. We have an appointment, for which he is a number of hours late for." He said, his accent seeming to make her lean over the counter exposing what little was covered of her cleavage in her low cut, thin black shirt.

"Room three zero two. When you get bored of him, I stay in room one-oh-four." She said, winking at him, as if he hadn't got the hint already. A blind, mentally disabled orangutan could have gotten the hint by that point.

He rolled his eyes after turning around, and finding the elevator. If it wasn't against his morals to hit a girl, he would have slapped her, and hoped that it beat some self-respect into her. As it was, he was going to smack Feliciano already for being so late, and hope it beat some punctuality into him.

He knocked on the door, and got no response. He sighed, and pulled out the spare key that the foolish boy had left in the right hand corner of the door, where one could easily get to it if locked out of the room. As he entered, he noticed that everything was suspiciously quiet. Not "someone is sleeping" quiet, in fact, the bed was unmade and empty. Not only that, but it appeared that even the wallet that was tucked away in the man's back left pocket at all their other encounters were nowhere to be seen. All of his other things, the easel, the canvas, all of it was still in the room. As if it's inhabitant had disappeared. Or been made to disappear. He rushed out of the room ,and down the stairs, pulling his cell phone out. He called the police to report the boy missing. Of course, they said that they wouldn't start a search for someone because they had stood him up. He cursed and nearly smashed the expensive phone in his anger. He ran home to where his uncle was just coming up from the basement with a box of things. That's odd, Ludwig though, he usually had servants do that sort of thing.

"Uncle, I need your pull with the police." He said, and a grey eyebrow went up."

"And what would that be? Did you get a little too into the poor life, and kill someone for their wallet?"

"Worse, I think that someone may have done it to a friend of mine. The artist that you bought the painting from, Mr. Vargas. We were supposed to meet for breakfast this morning, but he never showed up, and he wasn't in his hotel room, but the police say that I haven't known him long enough, and he hasn't been missing long enough for them to mobilize." He explained, though he knew that his uncle would now know that he had been in no way searching for a female partner during the past couple days. He didn't know why he was so attached to this man, but he was, and he couldn't live if something happened to him.

"And why are you so worked up. I don't suppose you care this much for every poor sap who was dumb enough to walk around at night and get himself mugged."

"I don't know. But he's my friend, and I don't want anything to happen to him. Please uncle?" He nearly begged. What he didn't know is that his uncle had already contacted his best friend, the police chief, and told him not to investigate the case no matter what, since he was the one who was behind it. The young Italian wouldn't be found at all.

"Alright, calm down son. But I think your life should return to normal until they find the boy. You need as little stress as possible." He said, seemingly very concerned for his nephew. Again, this was odd, as the man was usually cold, but was now apparently very worried about the well-being and emotional state of his charge.

"Yes uncle." If it was what it would take to get his friend back, Ludwig was perfectly willing to temporarily go back to the rigid life he was used to. For even the freedom of the outside would be a crushing prison without the only light that had pulled him from his darkness. The blackness that had encompassed him since he awoke, his eyes taking in light, and his ears sound, but his heart and should remaining asleep until he had seen that boy painting in the park.

If subjecting himself to the life most dreamed of would give him the only thing he dreamed of, then so be it. He would wear his black and white jail garb of a tuxedo if Feliciano would be waiting for him at the end of his sentence.


	6. Chapter 6

Feliciano was scared to say the least. He had awoken with a bag over his head, and in semi-familiar surroundings. It was Ludwig's basement, where he had often stored things while working as a tiny adorable servant. It was now covered in the dusty paintings that he had long since thought lost. The paintings that he had given to Ludwig as a child, not up to par with his current skill, but still fairly well done. Not that the paintings helped to make his current surroundings any less dreary. Other than the dusty and faded portraits, there was also a good deal of bugs and cobwebs, as well as the fact that he was chained to chests that were filled with what was apparently concrete, in spite of the fact that they used to be filled with books. He remembered bringing them up for Ludwig's father, loving to sit on his other knee next to Ludwig as he red from the tomes. Things from history to fairytales, those books were his key to another life, in spite of the fact that he had one that he quite enjoyed at that time.

He wished that he had those books now, because instead of being locked in a scary basement for reasons unknown, he'd much rather be in the land of dragons and princes that actually be locked in the tower, knowing that there was no prince to come and rescue him. Ludwig would just think that he had stopped showing up, or that he was too lazy to show up, and not want to be friends with him anymore. He would die alone, and probably never know why. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he thought that at least he'd finally be with the people who had really loved him in this world. His mother, and Ludwig, a smile on his face, and that warm hand of his extended to him, like when he would fall down on the swing set or something of the like.

"It won't be long now Ludwig…" He said, his terrified frown becoming a sort of demented smile as he began to feel his sanity slipping away, in spite of the fact that it hadn't even been a full twenty-four hours since his capture. Then again, it was a miracle he still had it at this point. He was an orphan of circumstance, and he was fully aware of the fact that he had absolutely no one in this world. What he didn't know, of course, was that the person he was waiting to meet in heaven was just two floors above him, hoping that he was okay, neither having any idea that the other was so close.

Tears still drenched his face, when the door opened, and an elderly man in a butler's outfit came in, holding a tray of relatively expensive food. Eager as he had become to die, Feliciano couldn't resist a good plate of well-made pasta, and as the saucy noodles were brought to his lips, he ate them happily. They tasted nearly as good as authentic Italian food, made by his mother. When the food was eaten, the butler left, and he was once again left alone in near complete darkness, only a single, bare light bulb hanging from the large, hundred bulb chandelier above him, and he found it somewhat representative in his half-crazy stupor.

He had at least a hundred opportunities to do exactly what he had done three days ago. Walk out of Francis Bonnefoy's house forever, and make a life for himself. But then when he had taken the last opportunity, he ended up here, his life only as bright as the light from the last opportunity he had taken. The easiest one. He had taken the path of least resistance, and had suffered for it, rather than take the path less traveled, so that it could have made all the difference. He was that final light bulb, burning as bright as he could, in spite of the fact that the ones around him were dead and gone. Some part of his mind decided that as soon as that light bulb went out, he would go out with it. He saw a sharp piece of glass to his left, from what appeared to be a broken mirror, and found that he could reach it, as well as his opposite wrist. They would meet the very minute that that light bulb ceased to shine. The only light he had left in a dark world that was, and always had been full of pain. He let out a fit of maniacal laughter, nothing like his normal happy giggle, as his sanity finally broke, in smaller pieces that the mirror his planned demise had come from.

…..

Ludwig sat awake in his room, staring at the ceiling. He was completely unable to sleep. Thoughts wouldn't leave his head, as if they were a black and white movie that wouldn't come off the reel. His memories, sparked but never fully aflame. Anytime he would remember anything of importance, it would slip away like a thief in the night, and he would have killed himself to make it all stop if he didn't know he was the only person who wanted to look out for Feliciano.

He finally got up, unable to take it anymore, and went down to the gym in his home, the place he always went to when his mind was racing. No matter what was going through his head, he could usually calm it down after an hour or so at the punching bag. He changed into his work out clothes, and wrapped his knuckles up as a picture flashed of a grown woman in a wedding dress, auburn hair flowing down her back as an eerily familiar smile played on her red-painted lips. A maiden blush was on her cheeks, and he felt a surge of a strong emotion he didn't recognize. This emotion was love, not that the boy who had forgotten what that felt like would know.

As his fist landed on the sand filled sack, the picture evaporated, and another appeared. A young girl bringing him a painting, and happiness grew in his chest. Another punch, and it exploded like the rest. More and more of them ran through his head and he stopped paying attention to his physical body, just punching mechanically.

"We'll get married when we grow up, right?" A happy voice said, and he heard the voice of a young boy reply in the affirmative.

Being called by who he could only assume was his father to come down, based on his response.

The cursing as they hydroplaned.

The crash of car on car and a final scream that was his mother as a piece of the dash impaled her soft, warm chest.

As the scream echoed through his head, he was brought back to the real world. He looked down to see that he had been punching the bag so hard that his hands were bleeding in spite of the wrapping, and that sand was leaking out of the bottom of it. No matter, another could be purchased in the blink of an eye. People didn't make men with as much money as him wait for anything. But who was the little girl he had promised to marry, and why had she never found him. He remembered waking up about six years ago, scrawny, and apparently a miracle. They thought that he was going to be in a vegetative state forever, and he was happy to prove them wrong. He was placed in the care of his uncle, like all the other possessions of his late father. The emotions that he should have felt at discovering their death were absent, as he had no recollection of the love that causes such inevitable pain. He was a hollow shell, ready to be filled with whatever his uncle had to put into him.

And so the man had, raising him to be a proper young man, living by a code of chivalry that would have made a knight think him a saint. Always be polite, and helpful to those less fortunate and the like. He was well-known for giving massive amounts of money to charity whenever the thought struck him. The only part missing was fighting for his chosen lady, for he never had one. He was breathing heavily, but wasn't anywhere near the exhaustion he would need to be able to sleep with his mind in it's current state. He knew that his uncle would want him to call his butler, who was also a clinical psychologist for the purposes of helping him through his problems should any of his memories return, but he really didn't want to. The man would likely say that so long as he could still function he was fine, and if not then he would give him a bunch of medication until he didn't remember again. That was simply how things at his house worked. Swallow the pain, or swallow a pill. There was no in between, and a businessman had no room for emotions, especially ones that had a negative impact on his ability to perform. He cursed and went over to the weight sets, lifting the heaviest that he could.

Sweat began to pour from his pale temple, and he still kept lifting, grunting with the exertion. But he still had the thoughts running through his mind. Playing on the swing that was rotting away in his back yard, pushing a young girl on it, both of them laughing as her short hair moved in the wind.

He lifted again, wishing that he was as empty as the day that he had woken up, or better, that he had never woken up at all. At least there was the blissful nothingness when he was in a coma, but now that he was awake he had to deal with the brain activity that everyone else regarded as a miracle, whereas he just thought it a curse. He often wished that he had been the one to die, rather than either of his parents, in spite of not remembering. Only now, he was starting to, and it only made his survivor guilt worse. He was remembering his mother's soft smile, and his father's strong embrace. But always in his memories was the little girl. Sometimes on the fringes, but always there, just waiting for him, as if she still was, and wished that he would just hurry up and remember her already.

As he set the bar down, every thought that had gone through his head disappeared, before he could commit them to his new memory. He didn't know what was there, but he knew that he missed the memories. Tears welled in his eyes, and he let them fall, knowing that no one would be around to see them, in spite of the fact that he had always been raised that men never cried, because that was a woman's job, and they did it plenty enough for everyone.

He got into the shower, hoping that the steam and warm water would make him feel better. All he got out of the deal was teary eyes and a tired body, but a mind that was still going strong. He cursed and simply got into the clothes he had come in, and went back to bed, hoping that sleep would pull him in eventually. It didn't so he settled for just closing his eyes, and getting a few hours of half-sleep. Needless to say, the next morning, he was exhausted, though his mind still ran a mile a minute, careful to cover his tracks so as to make the pace pointless.

…

Feliciano was brought breakfast, a delicious crepe, and he was happy to have it. He was fed once again, the butler whose job was apparently to take care of him not allowing him to have his hands free, in spite of the fact that he wouldn't have moved anyway. He was far to used to being subservient to ever contradict someone in power like that, not to mention he didn't stand a chance against the larger, stronger man.

He sat in the room, as the door was once again closed. He had tried to go to sleep, but memories haunted him as well. Nearly the same thoughts as had plagued Ludwig had been running through his mind, only they weren't new for him. They were his old companions when he had dealt with pain all those other nights. Not chained, but a prisoner nonetheless, and he wondered if that was his fate all along. To become a captive to men more powerful than him. That was the way the world worked, he supposed, and Harald had been right in calling thinking otherwise a naïve notion. He thought that everyone had an ounce of good in them, even of it was underneath pounds of evil, and that if you dug far enough, you'd find that good. Now, he wasn't so sure. What he was sure of is that he seemed to attract those who had a higher balance of evil, and he wondered if it were because of the evil he was convinced lived in him.

He sat in the cold basement, and watched the light flicker, looking at the shard of glass almost longingly. Soon, he would be with Ludwig again. He started praying, hoping that this would balance out his imminent, and past, sins.


	7. Chapter 7

The next day, Ludwig was sitting in his room, going over some of the accounting documents his uncle had thought would take his mind off of things. All it really did was make it wander more, what with having nothing interesting to do. After about and hour and a half wit about ten minutes worth of work to be done, Ludwig pretty much rage quit, and threw his pen down before grabbing a jacket and heading out for a walk. He hoped that this would clear his head, though his previous attempt at beating the ADD out of himself didn't really work. All it did was leave him with scabbed knuckled, and a broken piece of exercise equipment.

The chilly air hit him, and he inhaled deeply. Fresh air was always a good idea, especially when it was still early, and not many people were about. Yes, he'd been up for a good bit of time, but it was still barely seven-thirty, and most of these people didn't wake up until eight. He walked, not really paying any attention to where he went. This happened to bring him to the square outside Feliciano's hotel. He cursed inwardly, and wondered how he had strayed so far fro his normal walk through the park.

It happened to be quite the eventful mistake, however, as a sharp, and slightly rusted blade was pressed to his throat, though it was quite awkwardly in that he was almost half a foot taller than his attacker. Without even thinking about it, he grabbed the hand, and flipped the assailant over, because he had three years of judo training that he had yet to remember receiving. A man with scraggly clothing, two sizes too big, and wide eyes that showed he was addicted to something, was now cowering in front of a very tall, very angry Ludwig.

"So you like to attack people outside this hotel, do you? Well I had a friend go missing, and if you can't tell me where he is, I'll make sure that you're never a danger to anyone ever again, got it?" He growled, lifting the man into the air, after taking his knife of course.

"Who are you looking for?"

"His name is Feliciano Vargas. He has auburn hair, and a stupid smile. He has tan skin, and an Italian accent."

"Yes, I know where he is. I was hunted down to find him by one of the Bellshmidts. Please don't kill me, the last place I saw him was at the back door of the Bellshmidt mansion!" He begged, and Ludwig dropped him in shock. That couldn't be right. His uncle had hired this scum to kidnap Feliciano? That made no sense. He had only had one conversation with the boy, and that had been paying for a piece of his art. What did e have against him?

He very much intended to find out, and started running back to his home.

….

Feliciano was very sure that he was going to die here. He had eaten his breakfast as usual, and was now staring at the light bulb above him, as it flickered in it's last minutes of life. The glass was firmly held in his right hand, blood slowly dripping down it from the palm of his hand. He could almost hear the voice of Ludwig and his mama calling him, as if they were waiting for him even now. Of course, that was likely just his madness, but he had no idea that he was in anything but ideal mental health. In spite of the insane cackles that would come from his chapped lips any time he thought of something funny, or the fact that he was having various auditory and visual hallucinations.

…..

Ludwig burst into his uncle's office, where the man was doing paperwork himself.

"What did I tell you about not knocking?"

"This is important. Where is Feliciano?" He said, not wasting any time. Shock played on his uncle's elderly features, and then it returned to his normal calm.

"And why do think that I would know where you're little friend is?" He asked, looking appalled that he would be asked such an accusatory question.

"Because a wretch in the square told me that a Bellshmidt ordered him kidnapped, and I'm damn sure it wasn't me." He growled, not really giving a fuck that this was the man who had essentially raised him.

"And why would you believe him? I'm your blood, and he's just some piece of dirt on the street."

"Because I know that you'll do anything for money. And whatever you hold against Feliciano, it obviously involves money. Now WHERE IS HE?" Ludwig hit the oak desk so hard it cracked in half.

"humph. You can't just keep your nose where it belongs, can you, you little piece of shit? First, you have to go and wake up, leaving me with a snot nosed little brat to take care of, then you can't just marry one of the women I bring you, and do as you're told. Well, I'm tired of taking care of you. I think it's time you went back to sleep. For good." His uncle said, pulling a small gun from the ruined desk.

" And you honestly think that you'll get away with killing me?"

"I'll have someone pronounce you dead by means of a massive concussion. People know about you're rough lifestyle, and how you like to go into underground fighting rings. It's likely that whatever you do down there also results in head injuries, something even more likely to kill someone with your history. I'll get off without a hitch, and I'll never have to worry about you again." With that last word, the gun fired, and Ludwig was shot to his ass with the impact. Pain wracked his body, and he clutched the wound as it poured blood.

His uncle walked from the room, laughing like the super villain he was, as he was convinced that he had killed his nephew. However, he had never trained with the gun, and had luckily only hit a patch of muscle. Not a fatal wound, in spite of the fact that it had ripped through every layer of Ludwig's shoulder. He slowly got to his feet, and stumbled to the only place he could imagine a captive being held that he wouldn't notice.

He opened the basement door, and saw a single light flickering. He nearly fell down the stairs, as a series of memories assaulted him. Each flicker brought a new scene, the only difference being that now he wasn't forgetting them. He remembered his friend's name. Feliciano Vargas, the little servant boy who liked to where a maid outfit, though he had thought her a girl until now. (S)he was his best friend, and he had even promised to marry the cross-dressing servant.

The seizure of memories stopped as the light went out, and he heard a bloodcurdling laugh. He ran down the stairs, and found in the dark, that there was a form across the room. He flicked on the main light, and found that Feliciano was sitting on the floor, chained to a chest. He was about to bring what appeared to be a piece of broken glass to his wrist.

"Feli, Stop it!" Ludwig said, resorting unconsciously to the old nickname.

"Ludi…?" He was too out of it to think that this was Harald, the person who he recognized Ludwig as.

"I'm here, Feli. I'm so sorry I didn't remember you sooner." He said, tears welling in both pairs of eyes as blue met amber.

"Wait, you're real? You're not an illusion…?"

"Of course, I'd never leave you. I just couldn't remember that after I woke up. But now I'm really awake, and I'm never gonna let anything happen to you, alright?"

Ludwig looked into those eyes, and as a single tear fell from him, he gently pressed lips to chapped lips, and wrapped the gentle face in his big hands.

"How touching. Too bad you're both going to have to die." Ludwig's uncle said, appearing out of seemingly no where.

Before he could raise the gun again, Ludwig tackled him, and his fist connected with his face. The glasses his elderly eyes needed broke, sending glass shards into his eyes, blinding him. Still, he managed to roll away, and pointed the gun in the direction he heard his nephew in. Before he could fire, he felt a sharp pain in his neck. The glass that had been meant to take Feliciano's life, ended up taking the uncle's instead. The tan, frightened boy had stabbed, and killed, the assailant of his love. Years of hate and fear had risen up not to protect he himself, but for another, he could fight. He could take life, after having his taken from him so many times.

"Ludwig…I-I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. You're safe, and that's all that matters." He smiled, and found the key to Feliciano's chains in his uncle's pocket, freeing the boy.

"You're hurt. What happened?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. Come on, we need to get out of here, and tell the police what happened." Ludwig lifted the boy in spite of his injury, and went up to the landline to call emergency services.

When the police arrived, they found the two young men clinging to each other, and an old man growing ever colder in what appeared to be a ghastly torture chamber. Needless to say, the two were treated as victims, and not suspects. Ludwig was taken to the hospital to have his wound attended to, but he refused to stay, even overnight. He went back to Feliciano's hotel room, not wanting to go back home. He now had the massive fortune of his father's company, so he could live wherever he damn well pleased.

….

"Ludwig, why did you lie about you're name?" Feliciano said, once they were back in the hotel. They sat on the bed, snuggling. Yes, the chilly ice king Ludwig was snuggling, and enjoying every moment of it.

"Because I was supposed to be finding a wife. I had no idea that I was already in love. Besides, if I had told you my name, before I remembered you, things would have gotten even more awkward, and may have made my uncle just kill you faster, instead of holding you captive. I suppose it was a lucky coincidence."

"I guess. Either way, I have you now, and I'm never gonna leave, so you should probably get used to me."

"Are you joking? You'd have to pry me away from you with a crow-bar, and even then, I'd probably just reattach myself." Ludwig joked, smiling. Such an unfamiliar expression, and yet Feliciano seemed to make him do it so often. He supposed that such was love.

"So, can we still get married, like you said when we were kids?"

"Sure, but you know it isn't legal here, right?"

"yeah, but there are other countries. We can get married there, right?" He seemed fairly exited about this, and Ludwig couldn't help but chuckle at his enthusiasm.

"How about Switzerland? Low gun crime rate, and it has some really low taxes."

"You're so practical all the time. But I guess that's part of why I love you, huh?"

"I suppose. Hard to deal with me otherwise."

"So then we'll live in Switzerland, then?"

"Yep. Mr. Bellshmidt." The two of them laughed, and excitement threatened to burst out of both their breasts as the planned the wedding.

A/N- So this is the next-to-last chapter. After this, they'll have the wedding, and probably wedding sex. It would be really awesome if you guys reviewed, if nothing else to tell me if I should put Feli in a dress or a suit, I'm not too sure. BTW, thanks to everyone who has read this far, I love all of you in a weird, never having met you but love you anyway way!


	8. Chapter 8

It had taken two months to sell the mansion, and in that time Ludwig had decided that he would continue his company, but would need an American manager, as he took it international. He found a hard-working Japanese immigrant named Kiku Honda, and everything about the young man, though he was only in his mid twenties, said that he was the perfect choice, and with that, the German and his Italian fiancé went to Switzerland, and found themselves in every magazine in both countries, from the most serious business publication, to the most frivolous teen gossip pool, they were there, and most of the time on the front page. They were apparently the gay couple of the decade, which made Ludwig roll his eyes.

"What's with the eye-roll?" Feliciano asked as they walk past the magazine stand in the airport. He'd had a smile so big he had to close his eyes since they packed their bags, and Ludwig hadn't been able to stifle a small grin in spite of his stoic reputation. He had even decided that he liked his hair in it's un-gelled position, and it now hung loose over skin that was slightly sun burnt in spite of the season. He usually stayed inside, but Feliciano had been dragging him through parks and trails for the past two months. Okay, drag isn't the right word. He followed the enthusiastic Italian like a lost puppy, in fact, he made a lost puppy look positively independent in his following of his future husband. That's how bad it is.

"I just don't get why everyone is making such a big deal of us. Yes, we're both of the same gender, but I don't see why that matters. Even in countries where they're supposed to be over it, they are treating us like an anomaly." Ludwig said, and Feliciano couldn't tell if his cheeks were red because of his recent outdoor exposure, or because he was embarrassed by the rumors.

"Well, I don't see why you care that they care. All I care about is that I'm going to soon be married to the only man I ever loved, and that they can say I grew another six limbs if they want to, so long as that happens." This was Feliciano's way of saying to just ignore them, and Ludwig smiled, learning to interpret the young man's way of speaking long ago, and gave him a kiss atop his head, causing him to giggle, earning a chuckle from Ludwig. Soon it was simply a laughing fit, and people were starting to stare at them.

Ludwig cleared his throat, and restrained himself, this time making it obvious that the redness in his cheeks was from embarrassment this time. Feliciano gave a final giggle before doing the same. They sat, waiting for their plane to be called, and eating pancake sticks from one of the many fast food restaurants in the food area. They were pretty good, and Ludwig made a mental note to have these more regularly.

Finally, their plane was called, and they got into their first class seats, with pillows and blankets. Of course, Feliciano fell asleep on Ludwig before they took off, being siesta time and all. Ludwig smile softly, and turned on and in-flight movie. He really wasn't himself around the smaller man. Or perhaps it was more that he was only himself around Feliciano. It certainly felt more natural that the icy exterior he put up around everyone else. Either way, he couldn't wait to watch Feliciano walk down the isle to him, even if he wasn't as expressive about it.

…

"So you said you had family in Europe that would pick us up, right?" Ludwig said, as he watched the rental car line fill up more and more.

"Yep! My big brother and his boyfriend Antonio!" The other grinned, becoming even more anxious as they picked up the bags. Through this family, they already had the wedding planned, and it would take place a week from today.

"And you're sure you're older brother is okay with this? I mean, I am sort of just saying that we're getting married with little to no warning to him."

"No, big brother is a calm, collected individual. Always has been." Feliciano obviously did not remember much of the older brother who had stayed in Italy with their late father after their parents split up. This was made apparent when someone who was obviously related to him came up looking madder than anyone Ludwig had ever seen.

"What do you think you are doing, stealing my little brother away like this, you son of a bitch?" His accent was much stronger, but still he spoke English.

"Wait, what? I'm not stealing anyone. I'm marrying him." Ludwig was confused. If this was calm and collected, Ludwig hated to see whom his fiancé thought was a irrational individual.

"Yeah, that's what you say now, you sorry bastard, but I don't trust you and when you hurt my baby brother I swear to God I will castrate you. I will send you to your Boring German God in your boring German heaven."

"You imply that you know I'm an okay guy, in that I go to heaven, albeit a boring one." Ludwig said, being quite the intelligent individual and easily outmaneuvering the belligerent Italian in a game of wits.

"No! I was simply trying not to scare my stupid little brother, by telling him that you were going to hell because you're a stupid potato bastard!" He was simply becoming more and more pissed off, and Ludwig sighed.

"Come on, Lovi, no reason to try and kill him now. Just relax, and enjoy the wedding. They're paying for it, and we'll get all sorts of fine wine and cheese." The man who was presumably Antonio said, placing a calming hand on Romano's shoulder.

The next week was pretty much nothing but Ludwig being verbally abused by Romano, Romano being calmed by Antonio, and Feliciano sitting in their hotel room, trying to decide whether he should wear a wedding dress or the white suit that had been chosen for him. Ludwig was little to no help in the matter, as he said that he'd end up naked at the end of it anyway. Even on the day of the wedding, he was undecided.

It was an hour before he was set to walk down the isle, and he was sitting with Ludwig's second cousin, and his maid of honor, Elizebeta, or Liz for short. Her long brown hair was tucked into a neat up do, and she was in a yellow, strapless dress.

"I don't know which one to where. I mean, I am the bride, so I should wear a dress, but at the same time I feel like this is already weird enough, and that this would make it seem like more of a comedy skit than anything. Help me!" He begged, and she sighed, but kept the soft, matronly smile that Feliciano recognized from his mother on her face.

"Fine. Pick a number." She said, and he cocked his head to the side.

"I've chosen that one of them will be an odd number, and one of them will be an even number. We're essentially letting fate decide." She said, and he nodded.

"Okay! I'll choose twenty two, since that's today!" He decided that choosing the day in January that they would be wed seemed like as good a number as any.

"Then put on the suit. Even numbers were the suit, because they weren't odd, like a man wearing a dress."

"That makes sense. So help me get into it, please! And hurry, the ceremony starts in forty five minutes!" She laughed, and started to assist the young man-bride.

….

White lilies were everywhere, in the churches pews, and even the arch that had been moved in for them to stand under. The preacher, who was named something like Vash Zwingli, a local priest of the Catholic faith, Feliciano's idea, stood at the ready with his book. Ludwig stared at the door where his love would come from, as soft music began playing from the organ, played by Elizebeta's husband, Roderick, who was a pianist.

His heart was pounding. He thought that he had mentally prepared himself for this, but really what could one do. He was about to change his lie forever, and while he wasn't having second thoughts, he was still nervous. What if he forgot his vows, or something equally embarrassing? What if he stepped on his feet during the first dance? There were entirely too many ways this could go wrong. He nearly hyperventilated from his pessimistic thoughts. That is, until his ability to breath at all was taken away: Feliciano came in, arm in arm with a reluctant Romano. The elder was wearing a black suit similar to Ludwig's, only with a red kerchief, rather than the white one in Ludwig's pocket. Ludwig's eye went wide, and a piece of his formally slicked back hair fell from it's place among it's brethren. The white suit fit his body perfectly, especially considering it had only been done by measurements taken over the phone. A few young girls skipped merrily in front of them, and a young boy named Peter held the rings; A thick gold band for Ludwig, and a more delicate one with a small design of diamonds in it for Feliciano.

As Feliciano reached his place in front of his partner, the music stopped. Tears were in both eyes as they met, and joined hands. Vash went through the necessary verses from the bible, and they were to give their vows.

"Feliciano, I promise that no matter what happens, even after death, I will never stop loving you. I will protect you from any and everything it is under my meager human power to protect you from. I will provide for you the best life I can, and make sure that you never feel unloved or unwanted. Every night I'll wrap you in my arms and ensure that I tell you how much I love you now, and how much I always will. Know that these are the most serious words I will ever say when I say them. I love you, Feliciano. I love you more than anything else in this world. More than the air in my lungs, and the beating of my heart, and I vow to make sure that you never doubt that." Ludwig said, and a single tear fell from Feliciano's eye. Ludwig wanted to punch himself. That was nothing like what he had written on the tiny notebook in his pocket. He had totally blanked, and just started talking. Apparently it wasn't too bad. That or his nearly husband was crying tears of anguish.

Then again, the "awwws" from the audience made that outcome unlikely. Ludwig decided that that was better than the contract-esque vows that he had originally written.

"That was beautiful, Ludi." Feliciano whispered before he was handed the microphone. "Ludwig, I'm not sure if I'll be able to match that, but I'll try." He said, wiping away another tear, and taking a deep, shaky breath.

"Ludwig, I promise that under no circumstances, will I ever stop loving you. I've always loved you, it's all I know, and I couldn't imagine life without you. You're my soul mate, my best friend, and the world rolled up into one, incredibly attractive package." He paused to the light chuckling this was intended to create. "I will always love you, and ensure that you always know how safe I feel in your strong arms. I'll tell you that I love you every night, in words and actions, and never let you go." They weren't as long as most vows, but this was a love that didn't need so many words to explain. In fact, all that was needed was the look in their eyes as they met to know that they were as in love as humanly possible.

"By the power vested in me by the Church and the Nation of Switzerland, I now pronounce you Man and wife. You may kiss your bride." Vash said, and they pressed their lips together. The aura of love was nearly tangible and even the audience was crying. Romano was leaning on Antonio and burying his face into the other's shoulder as he sobbed. It really was like a father giving away his daughter.

After words, the two had the first dance, and Romano joined Feliciano in what was usually the father-daughter dance. This was all they stayed for before heading off to their honey-moon. See, they had both decided that the bets choice was to wait until they were married to have sex, seeing as how they had already waited this long. They got in a limo to head to their knew home by a lake, since Switzerland had no sea-borders.

A/N- So I know I said that this would be the last chapter, and would contain the sexy times, but I couldn't do that. See, if I did, this chapter would be unusually long. So instead, I decided that I would simply wait, and have an entire chapter be the honeymoon sex. Sorry for lying to you guys, but it was that or have a really long chapter, as opposed to the usual 2000-3000 word range. But next chapter defiantly!


	9. Chapter 9

The scenery at their home was beautiful, as they arrived at sunset. They large home was painted a hundred shades of red and orange, but the couple didn't even notice the Eden they would be living in. They were too focused on each other. They got out of the limo in a rush, and Ludwig sprinted to the door, Feliciano in his strong arms. Ludwig growled at the door, as if it were the inanimate objects fault that it barred their way. He put his suited lover over one shoulder, and opened the door with the other. The home was a bit dusty, but just as beautiful as the outside, luckily bought furnished.

Ludwig carried his lover up the stairs to their bedroom, and slammed him down on the red-draped canopy bed. He was on top of him in moments, mouths meeting in a passionate embrace. Tongues were writhing like a dying octopus, and they only broke the kiss when Feliciano ran out of breath. While he panted to regain it, Ludwig took to attacking his neck, in the gentlest of ways. He started with small nibbles, only to lick away the slight pain left by the nips. It wasn't long before Feliciano was moaning beneath him, never having felt this before.

"Ludi…" He moaned, and Ludwig responded by unbuttoning the white suit. After more of the damn pieces of plastic that he would have cared for, tan Italian chest was exposed, and the German took no time in taking advantage of that fact. He placed one hand on the left nipple, rolling over it and giving it the occasional twist while his mouth worked on the right. His right hand was undoing the pants of the smaller man.

Until Italy screamed, as if in pain. Immediately, Ludwig jumped up, stopping all touch.

"I-im sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you!" Ludwig protested, wondering what he had done. He didn't think he was being rough.

"No. It wasn't you. Just…just keep going." Italy said, trying to catch his breath. Something about the combination of his pants being removed and lusty breath down his back had turned Ludwig into his old boss, and he had screamed in horror.

"Tell me what's wrong, love." Ludwig begged, still not so much as touching his lover.

"It's nothing. Really."

"When you scream like that, it most certainly is not nothing. Tell me, or we won't be doing anything tonight except maybe a light cuddle." Ludwig threatened, though he wasn't sure if it would be working should the Italian refuse. He was pretty horny.

"Fine. Well, before I went out on my own…I worked for another rich guy." Feliciano started, and tears welled in his eyes. Ludwig prayed that this wasn't going where he thought it was, but as Ludwig told him about Francis, he realized that it was. Some old pervert had gotten to his Love while he was away. Because he had failed to remember, his Italian had gone through so much pain.

"Do our voices sound anything alike?" Ludwig asked, having an idea.

"No. Yours is deeper, and your accent is different."

"Then what if I talked to you while we did it? Do you think that would help?" Ludwig asked, removing his over coat.

"You don't have to do anything special, Ludi. Really."

"But I want to." Ludwig whispered, moving back on top of the other, unzipping the trousers.

"But what are you going to talk about. The weather forecast may ruin the mood just a bit." Feliciano joked, as his pants were slid down slender legs.

"Oh, the weather is the last thing on my mind." Ludwig chuckled, even lower than usual, and a shiver ran down Feliciano's spine.

"T-take off your clothes too. This isn't fair." The Italian whined, wanting to touch the other, bare flesh to bare flesh.

"If you want it gone, then you do it." Ludwig said, flipping them over, so that Feli was on top.

"Fine." He huffed, shaking hands working on the buttons of the shirt, as he slipped it off his lover. Next came the pants, and with them the blue boxers underneath. Ludwig's member was revealed, half-hard, and bigger than anything Feliciano had ever seen before. Ludwig smirked, a new side of him coming out.

"Do you like what you see, liebe?" He said, both his accent and a purr becoming more prominent in his speaking. It left Feli speechless. He just gulped and nodded, wrapping a hand around it, and moving torturously slow.

"Such a tease." Ludwig accused, and the smaller man pouted, moving much faster. The next smart-ass comment was absorbed by a low moan of pleasure as the larger man's eyes shut and his teeth clenched.

"We're the only ones here, Ludi. No need to hold back." The Latin voice said, and Ludwig opened his eyes just in time to watch that mouth sink down on his now fully erect cock. He gasped, and every exhale became a moan.

"Stop. Dammit, stop." He moved the mouth off of him, panting like he had just won a marathon. If he had continued, they never would have made it to the main event.

"Did I do something wrong?" brown eyes were wide, and sad.

"No. Just the opposite, actually. And here I thought that mouth was only good for spouting nonsense." Ludwig purred, sitting up, and then laying the other down. His hand returned to a nipple, while the other had three fingers in his own mouth. He had forgotten lube, like an idiot, and so this would have to do.

"You're so beautiful, mien liebe." Ludwig said, placing one of the fingers at the smaller man's entrance. He slowly pressed it in, and placed a kiss on the head of the other's erection.

"Oh!" Italy cried out at the small stimulation.

"If you think that's good, what about this?" Ludwig asked, going from a small kiss to deep throating the Italian dick, nearly all of it going into the German. Italy screamed once more, only this time in pleasure. He was shouting unintelligible obscenities as the blonde head started bobbing faster and faster until the head was barely more than a blur in tearing amber eyes. It felt so good, He didn't notice the second finger, until it rubbed against his prostate and his back arched, white pouring from his dick and into his german lover's mouth. Like a professional, rather than the virgin he was, Ludwig swallowed it all up.

"Shit." Ludwig cursed, having not meant to end it so quickly. That is until he noticed that the other was still fairly hard.

"Please, Ludi. Finish what you started." Feli moaned, and Ludwig had another of his ideas.

"No. I'm feeling a bit lazy. If you want my cock, you'll have to take it for yourself." He growled, laying back, and placing his hands behind his head, weeping erection plain to see and standing proudly.

Feli pouted, but situated himself above the other, lowering himself slowly and with a small grimace of discomfort. His body as over stimulated as it was, and so pleasure came from every touch, including having his ass stretched like taffy. When he was all the way down, Ludwig smiled in approval.

"My God, you're too sexy for it to be legal." He growled, and Feli nearly came again from the sound.

"And you aren't?" was the lame reply. The smaller man made up for it by starting to move, however. He started off fairly slow, but that was only going to last so long. After the second movement, Ludwig met his hips with a thrust of his own, hitting his prostate once more. He cried out, and Ludwig moaned at the tightening of the inner muscles of his lover.

"Shit, you feel so good. So tight." Ludwig moaned, taking the other's member in hand and stroking in time with each thrust. They were both messes of moans and growls until the Italian finished with a stream of curses in his native language, followed soon by the same words in German.

Feliciano collapsed on pale chest, and realized he had just fallen onto his own cum. Ludwig lifted him, and carried him leisurely to the bathroom, cleaning them both up with a small towel before leading the way back to their bed.

Strong arms wrapped around the smaller man, and he smiled as he drifted into sleep. Life was bright ahead of him, in spite of the inky blackness behind, and he wouldn't have changed a thing. God had a reason for everything, and if he hadn't been though such pain, the happiness he felt with Ludwig wouldn't mean as much. He finally got it. He finally understood God's plan.


End file.
